Key to My Heart
by Cirque47
Summary: Companion piece to “A Reason to Heal.” What was going through Vaughn’s mind after he and Sydney part at the bar? Vaughn POV.


Title: Key to My Heart  
  
Author: Drake  
  
Category: Drama/Romance  
  
Rating: PG for a few, almost insignificant bad words  
  
Disclaimer: Is this absolutely necessary? I guess it is. OK, I don't own anything Alias related. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. It all belongs to those wonderful monkeys at ABC.  
  
Summary: Companion piece to "A Reason to Heal." What was going through Vaughn's mind after he and Sydney part at the bar? Vaughn POV.  
  
Feedback: Be my guest. Reviews are highly welcome.  
  
A/N: Yeah, I know that TTT has already aired and this fic is just a little late. But it's the thought that counts. Plus, it seemed an awful waste to work on this story and then trash it when TTT aired. So just read it. Oh, and thanks to Molady13 for giving me the idea for this story!  
  
A/N: Three asterisks (*) mean a flashback. One asterisk means a jump to the next scene.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Key to My Heart  
  
Vaughn sat in his old leather chair -- an antique in itself, as it had belonged to his grandfather -- and stared blankly at the dark television screen. He held the remote in his hand, his thumb positioned over the Power button - but only out of the habit that whenever he sat down, he had to pick it up.  
  
The Kings were in town that night, but he hadn't the will to go watch them, despite the season tickets he had purchased a few months before. A cold, week-old pizza -- pepperoni with extra cheese -- sat in his refrigerator, ready to either be given to Donovan or thrown out, but he couldn't summon the strength to leave his seat. No, he was content where he was.  
  
But he wasn't content with what he had done -- shutting Sydney out like that, lying to her when he knew she had already been lied to one too many times. And now he felt incredibly wretched, knowing full well that Sydney had been justified in her actions while he had not.  
  
And as if Mother Nature saw and related to his misery, it started to rain -- slowly at first, then harder and harder until heavy drops began hitting the glass door that led from his living room to the balcony outside. The sky was crying, just like he was crying deep inside.  
  
* * *  
  
His jaw tightened as Sydney took the stool next to him.  
  
She pursed her lips. "What are you doing here?"  
  
He swallowed with some difficulty and looked down at his hands. "Sydney -- "  
  
"I asked you a question."  
  
He forced himself to look at her, only to meet her steely eyes boring into his. "What's going on?" he asked with more coldness than he intended.  
  
"Don't tell me it was nothing."  
  
"Are you following me?"  
  
* * *  
  
He had known there was no escaping her interrogation. And now as he looked back on it six hours later he decided he had acted like a small child who had just been caught stealing a cookie and was trying to talk his way out of it.  
  
But there hadn't been any talking out of anything, no coercion with charming words -- simply an explanation on his part. And he had noticed with dismay her eyebrows knit together near the corners, like they always did when she was troubled or upset.  
  
* * *  
  
She pursed her lips and looked back at him. "And did you find anything?" she asked and waited, breath held, for the answer.  
  
He took a deep breath and exhaled, and his gaze fixed on the file of folders in Sydney's hands. "Nothing," he finally said. He glanced up at her, noting her somewhat relieved expression. "She's clean."  
  
She nodded slightly and turned her attention back to the packet of research. "I wish you would have told me," she said, running her finger down the page.  
  
"You can't know everything about me, Sydney."  
  
Her head snapped back up; her eyes hardened and her mouth was set in a firm line.  
  
"I never said I did," she seethed, anger rising from the pit of her stomach. She got to her feet. "Apparently, I don't know you at all." She pivoted on her heel and walked away.  
  
* * *  
  
The phone was right there, a mere foot away on the table at the end of the couch. It would be so easy to call her, to let her know he was sorry and that he was still there if she needed him.  
  
But he couldn't -- not yet, at least. He knew she was still mad at him, and that it would take a while for her to cool off. So he just sat there and thought, and waited, and debated whether or not to turn on the television.  
  
He decided against it, and stood up and paced around the living room, his eyes finally settling on his suit jacket that he had haphazardly thrown on the kitchen chair. He studied it for a moment before reaching into the pocket and drawing out a small, gold-colored envelope.  
  
* * *  
  
"This is the key to my apartment. I was going to give it to you tonight at dinner. Obviously an inappropriate move."  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"Barnett's waiting for me."  
  
* * *  
  
He fingered the key for a moment, letting it dangle and sway before catching it up again with his hand. He had spent the last hour trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing by not giving it to Sydney, but all in vain.  
  
He thought back to five days before, when he had gone to the locksmith to have the key made. For almost a week he had let it stay in his desk at work, waiting for the perfect moment to present it to her. He hadn't considered it a secret, merely a surprise.  
  
But in the end it remained in his pocket where he had put it, the remnant of a token of affection never displayed.  
  
And if he could turn back time, he would do it, unhesitatingly -- just to get a second chance, to tell Sydney he never meant to hurt her, that she had been the only thing in his life keeping him sane.  
  
So maybe he *should* call her -- she probably wasn't up to meeting face to face just yet -- but what made him think she would answer? His head hurt, and he reached his hand up to massage his temples -- and miraculously, as if it was reading his mind, the phone rang.  
  
Once. Twice. He let it go on and just stared at it, wondering - hoping -- it was Sydney.  
  
Three times. Four. His answering machine clicked on.  
  
"Hey, you've reached Michael Vaughn," he heard his voice say, somewhat nasally. "I'm not here right now, so leave a message at the tone."  
  
*Beep*  
  
"Mike?" the caller said. "Come on, Mike. I know you're there. Pick up."  
  
Vaughn sighed and raised the handset to his ear. "What do you want, Weiss?"  
  
"Hello to you, too," Weiss replied. He paused. "I heard what happened. Between you and Syd. That's tough, man."  
  
Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his mouth. "She told you?"  
  
"Parts of it. Most of our conversation was her reiterating that you were an ass. She didn't go into much detail, but I got the picture."  
  
"Did you talk about anything else?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it, she also called you a -- "  
  
"Other than what she called me?"  
  
He heard Weiss sigh. "Look, Mike, I don't want to be the go-between guy. Whatever happens between you and Syd is your business, not mine. Oh, and you should know that your business involves Syd being pretty pissed at you. But you didn't hear it from me because I'm not involved."  
  
Vaughn closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "I know she's upset. I don't know what do to about it."  
  
"Afraid she'll kick your ass?"  
  
Vaughn was growing restless. "Is this the only reason you called?"  
  
"Okay, okay, look. All I'm saying is, go talk to her."  
  
"That's easier said than done, Weiss."  
  
"Hey, I'm just offering you some friendly advice. You don't have to take it if you don't want to."  
  
Vaughn bit his lip. "I'll think about it," he said at last.  
  
"Mike -- "  
  
"Thanks for calling, Eric."  
  
"But -- "  
  
Vaughn hung up. It was rude, he knew, but it was nearing ten o'clock and the drive to Sydney's apartment took half an hour.  
  
*  
  
It was pouring rain when he left his apartment, and he cursed himself for not remembering to bring an umbrella. He ran quickly to his car parked in the street, making sure to avoid the puddles in the sidewalk.  
  
She would never let him in, he realized as he turned his key in the ignition -- that once she saw his face she would slam the door and bolt it shut; this, of course being far from worst-case scenario. But in the event that this should happen, he would just wait outside in his car for her to emerge the next morning. He was bound to get his point across to her sooner or later.  
  
He pulled out from his parking spot and onto the road, not caring to turn on the radio or attempt to dry off. What mattered was getting to Sydney's house -- fast -- so he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal harder.  
  
He knew he shouldn't be driving so fast, especially on a rainy night, but his mind wasn't in the right place. He was too preoccupied with coming up with the right way to apologize, with just how beautiful Sydney was that day, with the feeling that he was incomplete without her.  
  
There was presently an open void in his heart, it having been ripped out mercilessly when Sydney left him alone at the bar. It ached, and every fiber in his being wished she were there to help fill it and extinguish the anguish burning a hole in his mind.  
  
*  
  
Will answered the door, and a moment of awkwardness ensued.  
  
"Is Sydney here?" Vaughn asked, not waiting for any greeting or salutation.  
  
Will eyed him and shook his head. "She's out. Don't know where, though. You can wait for her in here, if you want." He stepped aside to let Vaughn pass.  
  
"Thanks." He strode into the hall, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. "Do you know when she'll be back?" he asked as Will brushed past him.  
  
Will shrugged. "There's some beer in the fridge, if you want some," he said, as if that were an answer. "And some leftovers from a while ago. Unless I've already finished that." He scratched his head, trying to remember. "Anyway, I'll be in there." He gestured toward a bedroom at the end of the hall and walked away. (A/N: Okay, for all you people out there with sick minds, don't think I'm going to expand on the subject.)  
  
Vaughn nodded once and made his way to the refrigerator, still unsuccessfully trying to think of a way to apologize to Sydney. He pulled out a beer and walked back around the counter and sat down in a chair, draping his coat over the back and loosening his tie.  
  
He listened to the clock tick from the living room behind him but had no idea what the time was. He swished the liquid around in the bottle for a minute before setting it down and running both hands over his face and through his hair. He had just picked his drink up again when he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock at the front door.  
  
Sydney's clothes and hair were wet from the rain, but she still looked beautiful to him nonetheless. And, Vaughn noticed with relief as he got to his feet, her face didn't contort with anger when she saw him.  
  
Instead, she smiled -- not a spiteful grin but a genuine smile -- and said, "I'm home."  
  
And the next moment she was in his arms, letting the dam break and the tears flow freely.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured into her ear as his hand ran up and down her back. "I'm sorry."  
  
"You don't have to be sorry," she mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
He pulled away slightly. "I wanted to tell you."  
  
Her lips curled at the corners and she looked up into his eyes. "I had a feeling you did," she said, bringing his lips down to meet hers.  
  
He slipped his hand into his pocket as they parted. "Am I forgiven, then?" he asked with a laugh.  
  
"Of course," she said huskily, leaning up again.  
  
He put a hand between them. "Wait, hold on," he said, withdrawing his other hand from his pocket. He cleared his throat, and Sydney could sense an air of nervousness about him.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, looking down to where his hand had stopped. He was visibly holding something, and seemed uneasy in disclosing what it was.  
  
"I, uh." he began, and cleared his throat again. "I think this belongs to you." He took her hand in his and pressed something into her palm. It felt cool to the touch and was oddly shaped, like a key.  
  
"Vaughn." She opened her hand and looked up, meeting his gaze with her teary eyes. "Are you sure?"  
  
He smiled and closed his hand over hers, placing it on her heart.. "Syd, I've had six miserable hours to ask myself if I'm sure. I want you to have it."  
  
He leaned down and captured her lips with his, reveling in the touch of her fingertips on his back, knowing with a confidence he had never felt so strongly in anything before that the key to her heart unlocked their doorway to love.  
  
* * THE END * *  
  
Done! Not as long as my first fic, but five pages is substantial enough. In any case, thanks for reading! Now if you would be so kind so as to review! 


End file.
